


A Happy Harrington Holiday

by TimeToPanicAndOrCry



Series: Connected Trash Fics™️ of my favorite boys (there's a plot somewhere I promise) [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (This is what happens when you let me celebrate holidays), (i love him), Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove Tries to Be a Better Sibling, Billy has zero (0) brain cells and it Shows™️, Billy is a charming piece of shit, Enemies to Friends, Family Bonding, Family Issues, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I also don't know jack shit about cars so sorry car people lol, I can't write Max to save my life, I switch between like 6 tones in this and honestly I think it's going to stay that way, I'm sorry Max, M/M, Not Season/Series 03 Compliant, Once again: Billy Hargrove is Charming™️ and I Hate™️ him, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Relationship, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve's parents aren't that bad, Thanksgiving, because FUCK THAT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21645172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeToPanicAndOrCry/pseuds/TimeToPanicAndOrCry
Summary: Billy's car breaks down in the middle of the biggest storm Hawkins, Indiana has seen in decades. He and Max knock on the door of the closest house with lights on, stumbling their way right into the Harrington's Thanksgiving dinner, and with the phone lines down and the weather too severe to drive, they're stuck there for the foreseeable future. Starring insermountable awkwardness, Billy Hargrove's remarkable ability to be obnoxious and charming at the same time, and Steve Harrington, literal angel and ambassador of goodwill.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Connected Trash Fics™️ of my favorite boys (there's a plot somewhere I promise) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560394
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67





	A Happy Harrington Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> The ending is cheesy and the characters sound nothing like themselves but that's showbiz baby haha it's 1 am and I haven't written in 2 months.

Shitshitshitshitshit-”

“Billy, what the hell is happeni-?!”

“ShitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitSHIT-”

With a pop and a groan, the engine of the Camaro sputtered to a halt just as Billy pulled over to the side of the road. The storm raged around them, the car shaking with the force of the winds. Billy cursed again, “Come on, baby, don’t do this to me,’ he muttered, uselessly turning and returning the keys in the ignition.

“Billy, what is going ON?!” Max demanded from the passenger seat, her scrunched up face illuminated by the single light in the roof of the car, the sole light for what seemed like miles. Billy ignored her, peering out the windows at the roaring skies. Despite his best efforts, the world around them was pitch black. “Billy, wh-!”

“Car broke down,” he barked out, ripping his seatbelt off and twisting in his seat, futilely glaring out the back window.

“What are we gonna do?!”

“Give me a fuckin’ second, Ma-”

A gust of wind slammed into the car, sending it jolting forward violently. Max screamed, and Billy instinctively threw an arm in front of her, kicking his foot down on the brakes. They stopped moving as quickly as they’d started, but Max’s face had gone white as a sheet, and Billy could see her shaking. She whipped her head around, mouth open to say something, but Billy cut her off.

“We gotta get out of here,” he said, trying to minimize the tightness in his voice.

“But we can’t walk in that!”

“We’re gonna have to. We’ll freeze to death in here.” Even as he spoke, he could feel the warmth of the heaters fading away as the engine cooled. “Come on, you got a light in that dorky bag of yours, right?” After a moment of digging, Max produced a large flashlight from her backpack, and Billy snatched it from her hands. “Alright, let’s go.” They pried open their doors, fighting against the force of the winds. Max darted across the front of the car and grabbed a fistful of Billy’s shirt as they started off into the storm.

They walked for what felt like hours, wind, rain, and sleet barraging them from all directions. At one point a gust threatened to swipe Max right off her feet, and Billy had to wrench her back up by her backpack, practically dragging her forward.

“BILLY, WE’RE GONNA DROWN!” Max screamed over the sound of the pouring rain, and Billy could make out the terror in her voice.

“Just gotta make it to shelter…” he gasped out, and he threw an arm over Max, hunching his body around hers as the weather beat down on them. Then, in the distance, lights flickered on, illuminating the shape of a large house on a hill. “THERE!”

They broke into a run. The lights grew closer as their feet pounded the slick pavement until Max let out a yelp of surprise and slipped violently forward. She nearly dragged Billy down as well with her death grip on his soaked button-down. His knees hit the ground hard, but he scrambled back up, hauling Max into his arms and stumbling back into a sprint. The large wrought-iron gate of the house loomed above them, and he didn’t even hesitate kicking it at full force. By some stroke of luck, it slammed open, and he flew up the pathway to the front door.

“OPEN THE FUCK UP!” Billy shouted, ramming his elbow into the doorbell repeatedly. Max clung tighter to his torso and hid her head in his shoulder, and something twisted violently in his chest. “COME ON, JESUS CHRIS-”

The door ripped open, and Billy’s eyes landed on one horrified looking Steve Harrington. Well. That’s certainly not what he was expecting. He blinked at the other boy with wet eyelashes, stunned so badly he momentarily forgot what he was doing. 

“O-oh my god! Max!” Harrington’s voice broke through his stupor, and he very suddenly remembered his armful of maybe-freezing-to-death tween sister. Harrington ushered them in, a mess of appalled little squeaks and squawks falling from his lips. Billy lowered Max onto her feet, but she didn’t release her death grip on him, instead opting to shove herself under his arm and cling even harder to his shirt.

“What happened to you two?!” Harrington flapped his arms about in panic for a moment, before letting out a dismayed sort of gasp and ripping his sweater off, reaching out to wrap it around Max’s shivering shoulders.

“Car broke down,” Billy replied, tucking the now-ruined cashmere cardigan around Max even tighter.

“Steven, what’s going on?” A voice called out from down the hallway, and a woman in a fancy dress turned the corner. “Oh my goodness!” She exclaimed, her eyes landing on Billy and Max. “Steven!”

“They got caught in the storm,” Harrington said, wrapping an arm around the two of them and pushing them further into the house. His arm was warm against Billy’s back, and he very much did not want to think about why it made his heart thump a little louder in his chest. “I’ve gotta get them some towels and clothes to change into, otherwise they might get frostbite or something.”

The woman, who Billy assumed was Harington’s mom, nodded with wide eyes, “Right, right. I think I have some things that might fit the young miss there, let me just…” She turned and strode back down the hall, calling out loudly, “Ms. Jones! Ms. Jones!”

Harrington lead them down a separate hall and up a short flight of stairs, stopping them at a small closet and beginning to throw towels out of it and into their arms. “Okay, here. God, how long—Shit, here Max, let me help you—How long were you two out there?” Billy wiped the residual raindrops off his face as Harrington helped Max towel off her sopping-wet hair.

Max answered him this time, “I don’t know. I think we broke down around five, but I could be wrong…”

Harrington gaped at her, “It’s nearly seven, kid.”

Before either of them could reply, Mrs. Harrington marched up the stairs, an older looking woman in what appeared to be a house-keeper’s uniform in tow behind her. “Here, here, take these,” she said, pulling some soft, pink pieces of clothing out of the basket the house-keeper was carrying and pressing them into Max’s hands. “They should be your size, and they’re certainly warm enough. Here,” she turned to Billy this time and handed him a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. “There are bathrooms in our room as well as Steven’s, and one down the hall that way. Do you need any help changing, dear?” Her attention turned back to Max, who shook her head adamantly. “Alright, let me just show you the way then.” And with that, the two were off down the hall together, the house-keeper trailing close behind.

Harrington turned to him, his gaze just as soft and concerned as it had been with Max. Billy shifted uncomfortably, and he jammed his thumb in the opposite direction, “So I’ll just…”

Harrington nodded enthusiastically, an awkward half-smile appearing on his face, and he waved a hand at Billy, “Yeah, please, go ahead. Third door on the right. Don’t want you getting any frostbitten limbs or anything.”

“We’re actually more likely to get hypothermia, dumbass,” Billy replied instinctively. 

Harrington blinked at him for a second, before letting out a startled laugh, “Oh, just go before you die, moron.” Billy didn’t answer, and he left Harrington where he was standing to go look for the bathroom.

In the past ten minutes, Billy had discovered that Harrington’s bathroom was fancy as shit. In fact, the whole damn house was fancy, and Billy spent nearly half the time he was drying off rolling his eyes at how stupid rich he was. Seriously, who needs three sinks in one bathroom? When he’d finished pulling on the socks he’d found folded up between the other articles of clothing, he took a look at himself in the mirror. The shirt was a little tight around the chest, but it fell down to his upper thighs (Curse Harrington and his stupid long torso). The pants fit fine, and the socks were a blessing on his frozen feet, but seeing himself in Harrington’s clothes left a warm sort of feeling in him that he did not want to think about. Shaking himself a bit, he left the bathroom.

He startled when he opened the door to Max standing there, speaking in a low voice with Harrington. Her head shot up when he entered the hall, an unreadable expression on her face. “Hey,” she said quietly. “Steve says the phone lines are down, and it isn’t safe to drive anywhere right now.”

“So we’re stuck here,” Billy inferred, raising an eyebrow at Harrington to confirm.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he said, rubbing the back of his kneck.

“I’m really sorry, Steve,” Max cut in, but Steve just waved her off.

“I told you, kid, it’s fine. My Thanksgiving was gonna be boring anyways.” Harrington ruffled her hair fondly, and Billy had to avert his eyes, that same weird feeling rising in his chest for the third time that night. “Anyway, if you two wanna come down and join us you’re totally welcome. It’s probably a good idea for you to get something warm in you.”

So he was spending Thanksgiving with Steve Harrington. This realization had been building since he‘d seen him in all his bambi-eyed glory standing in the threshold, but it hadn’t really hit him until he was sitting awkwardly at a massive dining table with him and his family. There was easily enough food for a dozen people, but only Harrington and his parents, and Max and Billy, were present. Mr. Harrington sat at the head of the table, while his wife sat clear on the other side (At the foot of the table maybe? Billy had never been sure what to call that.) Harrington had sat himself in the exact middle, with Max dropping herself in the seat beside him. Billy hesitantly seated himself across from them.

He and Max tore into the food, which was easily good enough for a 5-star restaurant, and Billy had to repress a smirk at Mr. Harrington’s wrinkled nose. Invite the common folk into your house at you own risk, rich bastards.

“So,” Harrington’s voice cut through the silence. “How’s, uh, school going Max?”

She paused in her total destruction of a pile of mashed potatoes, blushing under the attention, “Um, it’s fine. Mike and I got paired for the science fair in Mr. Clarke’s class, but we haven’t decided what we’re going to do for it yet.”

Mrs. Harrington clapped her hands together with a smile, “Oh, Michael! Yes, that Michael Wheeler is a delight. Nearly as lovely as his older sister, wouldn’t you say, Steven?”  
Billy suppressed a wince at the not-so-underlying question in her voice. Clearly Harrington’s mother was none too pleased about the direction of his romantic life, which Billy found incredibly bothersome, for some reason.

“Yep, Nancy’s great, mom,” he muttered into his dinner roll, shoulders visibly tensing at the Wheeler girl’s name. Max looked between them with wide eyes, and Billy kicked her ankle under the table.

“Billy!” She exclaimed, drawing attention back onto herself. “Um, do you uh, do you think your car’s gonna be alright?” The kid shot him a glare that came out pretty damn intimidating, actually, considering she nearly gave him a vasectomy with a fucking nail bat like a month ago.

Nonetheless, he mentally squared his shoulders and put on a concerned look, “I don’t know, Max. It’s probably just the alternator, but parts for a Camaro aren’t exactly common around here,” he finished with a sigh and a shake of his head. It honestly wasn’t that hard to act worried; that car was his baby, his only escape from Neil breathing down his neck. He _hoped_ it was just the alternator, otherwise he wasn’t sure how he was gonna be able to fix it…

At the head of the table, Mr. Harrington’s ears perked up. Bingo. “A Camaro, you say?” He asked, fully turning his gaze to Billy for the first time that night.

Billy plastered on a winning smile, “That’s right, Mr. H. Bought her myself when I was 16.” It was a pretty safe bet that the successful businessman type would be intrigued by car talk, especially if it was expensive car talk. Luckily for both of them, Billy could talk about his car all night.

Mr. Harrington began rattling off about the Camaro he’d had when he was Billy’s age, and Billy shot Max a pleased little smirk. Rich people were easy as pie. Max, in turn, frowned at him, like he was a math problem she couldn’t figure out. Harrington also looked confused, his head tilted to the side in a lost sort of fashion that definitely did not make Billy’s heart skip a beat.

“Oh, Charles, do you remember the trip we took to Niagara Falls?” Mrs. Harrington chimed in, bringing Billy’s attention back to the conversation. “You _swore_ to me that rattling noise was perfectly normal, but we still broke down halfway there, of course. Are you quite certain you’re qualified to be giving this nice young man car advice?” Her voice was light and teasing, and Billy snorted lightly at being called a “nice young man.”

“Oof, she’s got you there,” Harrington sniped, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. (Not that Billy was looking at his lips.)

“Oh, hush now, Steven,” Mrs. Harrington said with a wink. “You wouldn’t exist if not for that trip.”

The horrified look on Harrington’s face startled a laugh out of both Billy and Max, and his parents followed suit at his affronted “MOM!”

Billy insisted on taking care of the dishes after dinner. It was more of an instinct than anything else, since he usually got stuck doing them at home, but at that point it was too late to back down, so he ended up having to charm Mrs. Harrington into letting him take over for the damn _house-keepers_ because again, rich bastards. So that’s about how he ended up in the Harrington’s stupidly large kitchen elbow deep in their stupidly large sink.

“Jesus, how many fuckin’ plates to these people have?” He muttered to himself.

“Like, way too many.” Billy whipped his head around to find Harrington himself leaning against the doorframe. He cocked an eyebrow at him, “Need any help?”

Billy turned back to the sink, ignoring the familiar dredges of anger fighting their way up his throat, “I can handle doing dishes, Harrington. I’m not fucking incompentent.”

Harrington heaved a sigh from behind him, “God, Hargrove, can you chill for like, once in your life? I know you can do dishes, alright.” He moved in beside Billy and grabbed a nearby towel. Billy opened his mouth to protest, but Harrington shot him this look, and his damn poofy hair was falling into his eyes a bit, and suddenly Billy wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to say in the first place.

They worked side-by-side, Billy washing and Steve drying, until the pile of dirty dishes was slowly diminished into nothing. It was a sickeningly domestic scene, as in Billy felt something that was definitely sickness turning in his stomach at the sight of it. Definitely.

“By the way,” Harrington broke the silence as he dried the last plate. He set it gently on the counter and turned to face Billy, his stare pinning him in place. “I wanted to thank you.”

Billy was confused. “Thank me?”

“Yeah,” he turned his gaze away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… Okay, it’s gonna sound weird, but my parents don’t usually… talk that much. Like, I’ve never seen them actually laugh together on holidays and stuff, and they seemed really happy tonight and I just-” Harrington cut himself off with a shrug, fixing his eyes back on Billy’s. “Wanted to say thanks I guess.”

Billy was _even more confused than before_ , “You’re thanking me for crashing your Thanksgiving... because it made your parents laugh with each other...?”

Harrington looked at him for a moment, before his face broke out in a fucking _blinding_ smile, “Yeah, I guess I am.” If Billy had the mental capacity he might have been concerned about why seeing Harrington smile like that made his stomach drop like he was on a rollercoaster, but at the moment he was a little preoccupied trying not to actively gape at him.

“Okay,” Billy managed, “You’re welcome I guess.” He paused. “And, uh.” The tile flooring of Harrington’s kitchen was suddenly very interesting. 

“Yeah?”

“I guess, you know, I should… thank you also. For not letting us drown and shit.”

“Of course,” Harrington’s voice came out soft like satin, and when Billy looked back up at him, his eyes were all round and bambi-like again. “I mean, anytime.”

Silence stretched awkwardly between them, and Billy cleared his throat, “Alright, well, if we’re done with our little pow wow then, I’m gonna go, ah, check on Max.”

“Right, right, that’s… yeah,” Harrington’s voice trailed after him as he backed out of the room. He was just about to enter the hallway when something stopped him.

“I’m... sorry.”

“What?”

“I said I’m sorry,” he turned back and Harrington was looking at him with confusion. “For beating your face in the other day. And going after that kid. That, uh, wasn’t cool, I guess.” Harrington gaped at him, his mouth moving a little bit like a fish out of water. “Max has been on my case about it, so. You know.”

A few seconds passed, but Harrington still hadn’t said anything, so Billy just nodded at him and ducked out of the room.

He spent the night in a guest room upstairs. Max took the one across the hall, but there were like four others, presumably because, for the third time: Rich. Bastards. In the morning, Billy changed back into his clothes and called a tow truck for his car. He let Max handle calling Neil, and tried not to think about what would happen when they got home. Eventually he found himself walking out the Harrington’s front door.

“Be sure to drop by again sometime, dears!” Mrs. Harrington called, waving a goodbye from the front steps.

“Will do, Mrs. H,” Billy replied with a charming smile. 

His feet had just barely left the stone of the patio when someone yelled his name. “Hey, Hargrove, wait up!” Harrington came bounding out of the house and down the steps, skidding to a halt at his feet.

“You need something, Harrington?” Billy asked warily, conscious on Max’s curious eyes on his back.

Harrington smiled, warm and nice and very, very off-putting, “You’re forgiven.”

Billy blinked at him, “Wh-”

“For the fight. I forgive you,” he repeated, shrugging as though it was the simplest thing in the world. “Oh, and also, call me Steve. It’s weird hearing my last name all the time.” With that, he left.

“What was that about?” Max asked, but Billy just brushed past her, ducking his head to hide the grin spreading across his face.

Yeah, maybe that wasn’t the worst way to spend a Thanksgiving.


End file.
